


Unrequited

by st_mick



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Hurt/No Comfort, Jack's a bit of a dick in this one, M/M, Suicide, dark!, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 23:58:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Ianto is just Jack's part-time shag.  He thought he could live with that, but maybe not...





	Unrequited

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up in a bit of a mood, and this happened. Hate me if you will.
> 
> I normally fight for the happy ending, but sometimes that doesn't happen.

Jack grinned up at Ianto as he checked the ropes binding the older man to the bed. Jack was on his back, the ropes securing him, spread-eagled, to the four corners of the frame. His hips were supported by several pillows, and he was hard as a rock, waiting for his lover to begin their game.

It would have surprised most people to know that Ianto could be a fantastic dominant, when he put his mind to it. He was also a mind-blowing submissive. Jack didn’t even notice when they became exclusive – because Ianto never bored him. He was, quite possibly, the best shag Jack had ever known.

Ianto kissed his way down Jack’s torso, teasing his nipples with bites and licks. Jack couldn’t get much purchase, in his position, but he canted his hips and growled, “Want you to suck me off.”

Ianto slowly made his way down to Jack’s cock, and proceeded to do just that. As Jack came down from his first orgasm, he caught sight of Ianto, kneeling between his legs. The younger man was stroking his own cock, looking hungrily at Jack, spread out before him like a feast. But then a strange expression passed over his face, and he reached into the drawer of the bedside table.

Jack licked his lips as he watched Ianto place a cock ring on himself. “Ooh, this is going to be good,” Jack smiled. He then lost the thread of the evening as Ianto plunged his face between his legs and began sucking his balls as his cock quickly filled again. The younger man licked along Jack’s perineum, then began laving his hole. Within minutes, Jack was coming again on nothing but Ianto’s tongue in his arse.

“Fuck me,” he begged, his body quickly responding as he felt Ianto’s cock filling him. This didn’t happen very often, but when it did, it was the gorgeous Welshman who could get Jack off a dozen times without flagging. “Touch me, Ianto, please,” he whimpered, and Ianto was only too happy to comply.

Jack noticed that Ianto was sweating profusely, and he grinned. Undoubtedly the younger man wanted to come, needed to come, but Jack was feeling selfish. Let the boy squirm. He liked this game. As much fun as it was when Ianto dominated him, Jack adored topping from the bottom. Being tied up, but calling every shot.

“Put on the nipple clamps,” he demanded, once he got his breath back from his latest orgasm. Ianto reached for the clamps, but Jack said, “No, not those. The good ones.”

The 'good ones' were actually quite vicious. Ianto’s hand hesitated, but soon enough he had secured them in place. 

“Want you to ride me,” Jack squirmed. The sight of the clamps had made him hard again. “Use that,” he nodded at the come covering his belly.

Ianto ran his fingers through the mess and used it to open himself for Jack. He had barely begun when Jack told him that was sufficient. Ianto sighed. Jack was feeling malicious tonight, apparently. Wanted it to hurt.

Soon he was riding Jack’s cock, pulling on the chain between the clamps the way Jack asked. His own cock was swollen and needy, but so far Jack had not concerned himself with Ianto’s pleasure. 

Jack came hard as he saw a small droplet of blood form where one of the clamps was biting into Ianto’s nipple. Ianto climbed off of him without complaint, covered in sweat and looking beleaguered. 

“Swallow my cock,” Jack squirmed again. He _loved_ letting himself go, like this. Loved that Ianto would do whatever he demanded. He looked up, surprised when Ianto choked for a moment. The man was an absolute god at giving head, he wasn’t sure what the problem was. But then he found his rhythm, and Jack didn’t think anything more of it.

Ianto was fucking him again, pumping his cock when Jack saw the tears start. The younger man let out a small sob, and Jack came, his vision whiting out. 

When he came back around, he was still tied to the bed. Ianto had carefully washed him. Jack frowned when he saw that Ianto had removed the nipple clamps. Then he got hard again as the younger man straddled him, holding a straight razor. _Oh, yes._ Ianto hated bloodplay, no matter how quickly Jack healed, so it was always a treat when he gave in and did it. 

“So?” Ianto’s expression was strange. His cock still looked swollen and miserable, but less so than before, and the cock ring was gone. Jack briefly wondered if Ianto had cheated. 

“Y incision,” Jack said with a grin. He was feeling morbid. “Not deep, just enough to sting.”

Ianto nodded. Jack’s eyes flew wide as the younger man began cutting himself, rather than Jack. “Ianto, what are you doing?” he asked, but his body went into overdrive as the blood began to flow down Ianto’s torso as he completed the cuts.

“You want to see me in autopsy?” Ianto asked, his voice low and rough. He leaned down and kissed Jack – tenderly, sadly – and Jack felt Ianto’s blood, hot and sticky, pooling against his chest. Against Jack’s lips, Ianto whispered, “I can arrange that.”

Jack blinked as Ianto sat back, that strange expression still on his face. “Ianto?”

Very carefully, with a focused expression, Ianto used the razor to open up the radial and ulnar arteries along each arm. His cuts were precise and deep, and ran midway up his forearms. Despite Jack beginning to struggle beneath him, screaming for him to stop, he completed all four incisions in very little time. He tossed the razor onto the bedside table.

“Would you like some water, Sir?” he asked.

“Ianto, what the fuck are you doing?”

“I should have thought it was obvious,” Ianto was staring fascinated at the blood flowing from his veins, pouring onto Jack’s chest. Then he looked at Jack. His eyes were already glassy. “Oh. Almost forgot.” He got up and walked out of the bedroom. A moment later, he came back with a cup of coffee in one hand and his wallet in the other. He took a sip of the coffee and gave a small smile. “Last sip?”

“Ianto, untie me. Now!” Jack watched as Ianto set down the mug, then pulled some cash from his wallet. 

“One hundred pounds,” Ianto set the five twenty pound notes on the table, now with bloody fingerprints on them. “That’s for Owen. He said, ‘a hundred pounds says that it wouldn’t even occur to Jack to let you come, if you let him top from the bottom.’” Ianto shrugged. “Fair’s fair. You’ll see that he gets that, yeah?”

“Ianto, untie me, damn it!” Jack was struggling against the ropes, but they were not the slipknots that they usually used when playing. And Ianto had somehow reinforced the headboard where he was secured. He could not get loose. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ianto sat on the bed. He reached out and stroked Jack’s face. “I’m tired, Jack. Tired of Owen’s derisiveness and Toshiko’s pity and Gwen’s smugness and your indifference. I know I’m just a placeholder until you can have Gwen. I know she’s the one you love. And I thought it was enough, the attention you deign to give. But… I’m just so bloody _tired_.”

“Ianto, come on. Untie me. We can fix this. I’ll retcon you.”

“Won’t work,” Ianto said. “Already tried it.” At Jack’s widened eyes, he sighed. “When you were gone. I tried it. New name, new identity. First morning I had a wank in the shower. Came calling out your name, remembered everything.” He sniffed. “Tried a second time, too. Woke up a bloody monk. Figured that’d take care of the wanking. Then a slightly older monk grabbed my arse in the library stacks.” He laughed, and it was more hysteria than humor.

“You’re immune to retcon,” Jack whispered, dread filling him. Too much time was passing.

As if reading his mind, Ianto smiled. Held up the stopwatch. “Should take twelve minutes, for someone my height and weight. It’s been nine. Point of no return was seven. If I untie you, will you just…” A tear fell. “I’m pathetic, you see. Will you hold me, or will you try to make some stupid effort that I don’t want, and that it’s too late for?” His words were beginning to slur.

“Untie me, Ianto,” Jack tried to swallow around the lump in this throat. It was the wrong game. Jack had been playing the wrong game, punishing Ianto, for nothing in particular. And Ianto had been testing Jack’s regard. 

Wrong _fucking_ game.

Ianto grabbed the razor and cut the ropes between Jack’s hands and the bedposts. He handed Jack the razor so he could cut free his feet. Then he lay down.

“Ianto,” Jack gathered the younger man in his arms. He was already so cold. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, Jack. You can’t help it, that you love Gwen. Just like I can’t help it, that I…” he looked at Jack, a defiant spark lighting his eyes. “That I love you.” He gulped in a breath of air. “It’s not that bad, really. Should have let Ewan bleed me, back in the village. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

“Don’t say that, Ianto,” Jack felt tears prickling his eyes. He had treated the younger man horribly. Had used him, knowing how he felt for Jack. Knowing he felt nothing for Ianto, other than a sort of lustful awe at his skills as a lover. Owen had been right. Just a part-time shag. It had meant nothing.

Until it did. 

When had Jack become so callous and uncaring? 

When had he gone back to just using people? 

When had the thought of losing Ianto become unbearable?

Ianto drew in another deep breath. “Tell Owen… Tell him thank you.”

“What?” Jack was holding him close, trying to keep him warm.

Another breath. “For setting me free.”

Jack sobbed and Ianto tried to focus on his face. “So beautiful,” he whispered, bloody fingers tracing that jawline, one last time. 

One last breath.

“Jack.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. I have a serious love/hate thing going, with this story. I think as a stand-alone, it's very powerful, so I really don't want to mess with it. 
> 
> But the story sort of kept going after I finished and posted it (as they sometimes do), and now I have a fairly lengthy story on my hands that took the wheel and very decidedly turned left.
> 
> This story was written to be a stand-alone, and if you're satisfied with it, then that's great. However, if you want to see another way it could have gone, then check out "Unrequited, No More". Once it's posted, I'll include the link as a remix...

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Unrequited, No More](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20500703) by [st_mick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick)




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